Eternal Flame
by StEpPiNg StOnEs
Summary: Luna, I told you once before that I loved you. Love isn't a fleeting feeling; it doesn't come and go. Love is forever. Can't you see that yet?" Summary inside.
1. Prologue

In Luna's final year at Hogwarts, she finds love in an old friend—Neville Longbottom. To him, it was never any question that they belonged together. He had admired, depended on, and loved her for a long time. But as the years go on and their lives lead them down different paths, it seems as if the flame Neville deemed 'eternal' is dying out. This is the story of Neville and Luna's love, a journey taking them through many years and bumps in the road.

* * *

**_Prologue_**

* * *

He stood staring silently out of his window, watching the squirrels skitter about the front yard and wondering what to do with the time that hung before him. It had been a long time since he had been home at the beginning of September—seven years, in fact—and it felt…wrong to him. He had quickly grown used to being gone for all but four months out of the year. More than that, he liked it. Now he was back to living at home and he felt…lost. What was he to do? Where was there for him to go? The world around him was still in ruins, trying to recover from the destruction which had been brought upon them. He wanted to help, but how was he supposed to when he wasn't even sure what was going on?

Sighing, he sat down at his desk and stared at the blank piece of parchment in front of him. It stared back tauntingly, daring him to write the letter he had been putting off for so long now. All he wanted to do was talk to her, but, as he stared at the sheet, an idea came into his mind. Maybe _she_ would have the answers he was looking for. She always had before, somehow. So, dipping his quill in the ink, he began to write.

_September 3, 1997_

_Dear Luna,_

_How is it? I'm sure it's different, but how so? Is it bad? Has it gotten better at all? I am sitting at home, not sure what to do with myself now that I am not at Hogwarts. It's all I've really been thinking about since I left. At least there I knew what was going on and how I could help. But here…well, to be honest, it seems so normal and peaceful that it is easy to forget that out whole world was torn apart just a few months ago and the mending is still going on. It's easy to not realize that people's lives have fallen apart and they need help putting the pieces back together._

_When I think of the war and loss, I immediately think of the Weasleys. They are a good family—they didn't deserve any of the bad things that have happened to them. But I don't know how to help them. I don't know…how do you fix the spot where a son belonged? And then there is little Teddy Lupin. I think of him and I can't help but be reminded of Harry—both parents dead at once, killed because of Voldemort. There really is no repair to losing your parents. But what else is there to fix? I could be that guy to help fix what was broken if only I knew what to fix. But when you've just lost a loved one, there really isn't much else that matters, is there? Everything else just seems to fall into the background for a while, and by the time you finally pick yourself back up to take care of the problems, there isn't really anyone volunteering to help anymore because no one knows that there is anything left._

He sighed, briefly placing his quill down to rest his hand. He felt a heaviness inside of him. The cause was uncertain, but he suspected it was because of the war. He felt an itching to help—a need to. At Hogwarts, he had been at the center of everything, helping anywhere it was needed. Here, he just sat at home, writing letters and talking about it. If he knew of someone who needed help, he would be there in a flash. But, as it was, he sat at home, forgetting too easily that there were still people in need.

_Luna, I feel lost. Last year, I grew so much. But here, I feel like I am shrinking back into my blubbering old self. I suspect soon Trevor will go missing on I will be a complete mess until I find him. I don't want to be reduced down to that. I like who I have become. I like helping people and taking risks._

_I need some way to keep my strength. I need a way to stay focused and to help. And, if you don't mind, I think you could be that way. Over the past few years, you've helped me in ways you don't even know. So, if you could please tell me what is going on and help me find a way I could help, it would be much appreciated._

Downstairs he could hear his grandmother calling out to him as she clambered about in the kitchen. He sighed again. Well, he had one person to help, but it wasn't quite what he had in mind. It didn't have to be big—any small task would do, but he wanted it to really be of service to those who had lost so much in the second wizarding war. He wanted to feel like he was serving a purpose again. He hated sitting around the house, running errands as people were struggling to regain what they had lost.

Those squirrels outside were doing more than he was.

That was just sad.

Really.

There was a crash from the kitchen, and he knew what was coming next. It was like a routine with his grandmother. Every day felt the same. And while, once upon a time, this would have been fine with him, suddenly it felt tedious.

"Get down here, boy!"

"C-coming Gran!" He picked up his quill and quickly ended the letter. His grandmother sounded a bit peeved, and it was best not to keep her waiting when she was in a mood like that.

_Gran is calling me now, so I should go. I hope to hear from you soon and hope all is going well. Please keep me informed. I will write again soon._

_-Neville Longbottom_


	2. 01: Scars

**_One ₪ Scars_**

* * *

Neville awoke with a start, gasping for breath as sweat dripped down his brow. It was still night—the darkness so thick Neville couldn't even see his own hand in front of him, yet his eyes still burned with the images of his dream, though it was really not so much a dream as it was a memory.

He closed his eyes, but the images were still there. Fires were raging—their flames dancing dangerously and greedily eating up the dry grass. Walls were crashing as the battle raved on. All around him, friends and enemies alike were falling. Months later, the sounds of their screams still rang in his ears—haunting him, reminding him of all of those whose lives he couldn't save.

And that moment when all seemed lost…

Harry Potter—the Boy Who Lived—laying limp in Hagrid's arms.

How lost it had all seemed in that moment. It didn't matter what came next—that Harry was, in fact, _not_ dead and even came out the victor in the final battle with the Dark Lord—because in that one moment when he first saw Harry's still body, all Neville could feel was despair. All plans were gone. They would undoubtedly continue to fight, but it seemed almost pointless. With Harry gone, hadn't Voldemort already won?

And then came the guilt…

Neville distinctly remembered his run-in with Harry, when he asked Neville to kill the snake. Even though he knew better, Neville couldn't help thinking he could have stopped Harry from going…They weren't eleven anymore, and Neville had grown a lot from that timid, frightened boy in the Common Room, trying to stop Harry, Ron, and Hermione from sneaking out—again. If only he had tried to do something…Maybe he could have stopped this.

Now all he could do was the one request Harry had left for him—kill the snake. It wasn't something he really understood, but there must have been a reason; it was all he could do now for his friend.

Helpless…

The scene still frightened Neville, nearly four months later. The thought of defeat—so many dead, so much lost—and feeling as if there was nothing else to do…It was a feeling he never wanted to experience again.

Yet he felt as if he were constantly trapped in it. Every day when he woke up and wondered what he could do, he felt compelled to reread Luna's first letter to him.

Neville closed his eyes, willing the images still etched into the insides of his eyelids to disappear. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached across the darkness to his nightstand. His fingers searched through the rubble that lay scattered on the small table for his wand, which never seemed to be where he had left it.

"_Lumos_," he whispered, his fingers finally closing around the smooth wood. Instantly, a light appeared at the end of his wand. Using it as a guide, he stumbled to his desk where the crinkled letter lay open in wait for him.

**_Oh, hello Neville…_**

It began in such a Luna-ish way that he could almost hear her soft, feathery voice in his ear; he could almost see her gentle smile and her wide blue eyes.

**_It's wonderful to hear from you. I have been meaning to write you, actually. Over the summer, though, my father took me on a voyage to find Crumple-Horned Snorcacks. They are quite rare and beautiful creatures, you know. And as fun as it was, it sadly didn't leave much time for anything else. Oh well…_**

**_Hogwarts is well on its way to recovery. Everyone is pitching in to build it back to its old grandeur. Professor McGonagall has been appointed Headmistress and Professor Sinistra took her place as head of Gryffindor. She seemed sad to leave…_**

**_Muggle Studies has remained as a required course of study first through fifth year so that, hopefully, wizards will have a better understanding of them and we will—hopefully!—avoid any more incidents like the Second Wizarding War! I do hope it works!_**

**_After the truth came out about Snape, his tomb was put beside Dembledore's to honor him and his loyalty to Dumbledore. Outside of the Entrance Hall is a memorial for all of the fallen from the Battle of Hogwarts. It's sort of a miniature of the memorial in the Ministry. I'm sure you'll see it someday. It's magnificent. I can't even explain it._**

**_Have I mentioned that Dumbledore's Army is still growing? McGonagall has given us our own room, even! There isn't a whole lot to do now, really. Mostly we will be working on rebuilding Hogwarts and we plan on arranging outings to go help others. These will most likely be on Hogsmeade trips, but missing those is alright with me. I just wish there was more to do. Maybe we'll keep learning extra spells and techniques, I'm not sure. It doesn't seem like it will be as much fun as it used to me. The resistance is all gone. We don't even have to sneak anywhere anymore—or get to pretend that we are. I'll miss the Room of Requirement…But, still, it's the DA and as long as I am here, I'll be in it. Soon we're going to choose a new leader. I think I'll elect Ginny…_**

**_We're going to frame the list of original members—the one Hermione made up in the Hog's Head—to put on the wall. Someone suggested putting up a plaque of Harry, too. I said we should put one of you, too._**

**_Neville, I don't know if you grew last year. I think you were always strong—you were always brave. At heart, I think you were always even a leader. To say you grew—to say that you became that last year—doesn't seem right to me. You don't give yourself enough credit, Neville Longbottom. Since I've met you, and most definitely since your first year, you have changed, yes. Everyone changes. Your bravery and strength has changed. Don't say that you've grown it—you've always been it._**

Even after having already read it many times, it took Neville a minute to figure out what she was saying. She had a very unique way of looking at things which Neville could only comprehend after deep thought.

**_So, I am sure you will find your own way to help without me telling you. You have initiative. I won't take that from you by telling you. Be proud of what you did for the world and don't forget—the man you see in the mirror is a hero, even if you can't always see it._**

**_Take care! Write back soon!_**

**_--Luna Lovegood_**

**_Oh, how are you by the way?_**

The letter almost didn't sound like Luna. In some parts she sounded so serious and just…different. He was used to her light, airy, conversational speech. But that last bit which, although it did have the confusing, backwards Luna logic, seemed much too serious to be the same Luna he knew. While the rest of the letter could pass as Luna, it was only the beginning and the very end, after she had already signed her name—that he could instantly recognize the person behind the words. Flighty and carefree Luna Lovegood, asking answered questions.

How long had it been since he had talked to her—truly talked to her? He hadn't had much chance over the past year. It seemed, though, that she had done some changing (or growing? Neville wasn't sure which term or whose logic he was going by) of her own. She had always been thoughtful, brave, and very sure of herself; she always stood up for herself. But whenever he looked at the letter, Neville felt as if she had become a different version of her old self, and he was sad to have missed the process—to have been so busy that he missed his friend's changing. Hopefully the old Luna had not been lost in the process. What a loss to the world that would be.

Despite this apparent change in his friend, her letter made him smile in a way which only she, Luna Lovegood could.

* * *

Hours later, light streamed through Neville's window, washing over his sleeping face. His eyebrow ticked irritably before his eyes shot open and immediately squeezed them back shut.

Once the light was no longer a shock, he got out of bed and made his way to the window. Outside, the leaves were starting to turn. With the golden sunlight gleaming down on them, Neville couldn't help staring at them; the transformation never ceased to amaze him. How quickly they always changed from green to the beautiful golds, oranges, and reds which were displayed before him now.

But even the trees had scars.

Each leaf that fell left another small bundle scar on the tree. It seemed so odd for something so strong and sturdy to be so easily scarred. Neville traced his own scars. Once, his fingers would have trembled as they ran against the tender skin, but now he just stood there, running over the long line on his cheek over and over again. He hadn't been scared when he had gotten it—he had been bold; daring. He had had a purpose. He had been _fighting _for something.

It hadn't been until the fighting was over and all that was left was loss that the wounds started to frighten him. He would see them in his reflection and he felt as if they were all he would ever see—reminders of the pain and the slaughter he had been a witness to. The memories they brought were much like that which he had dreamed that night, except they were constant. They haunted him, and he felt lost.

He could almost see his reflection in the window now, but it didn't bother him anymore. He knew now he had nothing to shudder about. He should wear his battle scars with pride. After all, _he _had done his part in gaining freedom for the wizarding world again. He was a hero.

Neville touched the letter quickly for reassurance. He felt a surge of pride inside of him. He was a hero. He had helped save the wizarding world from Voldemort's power. He was a hero. So what if he was a little marred from the process? He would wear his marks with honor and everyone would know that he was no coward and he did what he could. He would continue to do what he could until he was no longer needed. Neville Longbottom was no longer the boy who couldn't even keep three kids from sneaking out; the boy who cowered when his potions professor so much as passed in the distance; who constantly lost his toad and, with it, all his senses. He was his own man. He was the tree—tall and sturdy, despite its blemishes.

Feeling uplifted, Neville took a deep breath and stepped away from the window. Seeing it was nearly eight o'clock, he quickly threw on some clothes and rushed down the stairs. His gran was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and the _Daily Prophet_ spread out before her.

"Are you going to Diagon Alley again today?" she asked, glancing up from the paper to look at her grandson.

"Yeah." He bit into an apple as he poured himself a glass of orange juice. "It's coming along nicely, but there is still a lot to do."

The pride which gleamed so brightly in his grandmother's eyes made Neville's insides swell with joy. He still clearly remembered the days when he felt as if he was constantly disappointing his grandmother, and the knowledge that those days were behind him was another great reminder of just how different he was now.

"Well, I should be off." He took another huge bite from the apple and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Bending down, he pecked his grandmother's leathery cheek. Then, with a wave, he was off, pulling his cloak from the coat rack as he went.

The Floo Network was still in the process of being fixed—the Ministry had been so busy with everything else that the network seemed to have taken a backseat, though, as a main method of transportation, it seemed pretty important to Neville—he had to catch a train to the Muggle entrance. This was a feat which Neville had mastered rather quickly—or so he thought—in the month which he had been traveling it.

The past few months, the Leaky Cauldron seemed even busier than usual. Neville quietly observed the many people sitting at the bar and wondered what must have happened to them to bring them there at such an early hour. For by now it was still not even nine. He frowned as he walked past the bar, silently greeting the barman. These were the people he wanted to help—the people who had lost so much it had driven them to sitting in a bar in the early morning. He just didn't know how to do it.

So, his mind desperately searching for ways to assist these people—who were _most_ likely victims of the Second Wizarding War in some way, though it was always possible that they were not—Neville made his way to the back of the pub.

Three up, two across; Neville tapped the brick with his wand, revealing an archway into the alley. He stepped through and, as usual, his heart sank at what he saw.

Diagon Alley had been devastated by the war. Ever since the return of Voldemort, shops had been closing. At one point a group of Death Eaters even infiltrated the peaceful alley, raiding Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor (and killing Florean) and then kidnapping Ollivander. Neville looked around at the devastation. A lot of rebuilding had been taking place since a few weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, but it was still nowhere close to what it had been before.

There was no longer anyone living on the street and there were few beggars, but it just looked…abandoned. The streets, though clear of litter, looked dirty. The buildings—dilapidated. Many were still dark and abandoned, their contents scattered about the floor.

_Diagon Alley is like a big scar, _Neville thought, returning to his analogy from earlier. Though it had been months since the attack, you could still see the wound it had left behind. Maybe someday it would fade, as some scars do, but maybe it would always be there—a faint, but present, reminder of what had happened there.

It was always difficult to know where to start. Usually, Neville would work at whatever place he noticed first. However, there was something different about that day. It was the first Saturday which Neville had had the chance to make to Diagon Alley, and there were…people there. And not people shopping, either (though, really, there weren't many places open). There were people rebuilding—a huge group of them, using whatever means they could to fix up Diagon Alley.

The sight pleased Neville; he had been thinking he was really the only one trying anything here. To him, it seemed as if everyone else had abandoned the place, leaving it to live only in their memories. After all, the rebuilding should have been easy enough. All it would take would be people skilled enough in magic to cast cleaning spells and building spells; it didn't need to be done manually, though that was mostly how Neville had been doing it.

What _really_ need help was the people. That was the thought Neville couldn't get out of his head: he needed to help the people who had suffered because of this. Some would need help getting back on track and restarting their lives. He looked down the street and stared at the dark Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with a saddened expression. Not since the store closed at the beginning of the war had Neville seen a single light on it; he hadn't even seen George since the Battle of Hogwarts. He probably bore the worst scar of them all: the loss of a best friend; a brother; a twin.

George Weasley was the type of person Neville wanted to help. However, he ran into the same dilemma as he had with the people at the bar—how would he do it? Just walk up to him and say, "Hey there George! I know you lost your twin in June, and I know you are hurting. How about I help you out and we get that store back up and running, eh?" It didn't work like that. Of course, Neville didn't know how it _did_ work. He wasn't used to that kind of assistance.

"Hey! Neville!"

Slowly, Neville turned his head towards the familiar voice, trying to place a face that he recognized. A girl rushed towards him, her wavy blonde hair pulled into a ponytail at the top of her head. For a moment, Neville thought it was Luna; his heart gave a big leap and a wide smile spread across his worn face. However, as the girl game closer, he realized it was not Luna Lovegood, but Hannah Abbot.

"I thought that was you!" she exclaimed. As usual she appeared bright and cheery, though Neville sensed it was nothing but a charade. "It's been a while. I haven't seen you since…" She swallowed hard, her smile faltering. "Well, you know. How are you?"

"Not so great. Just hoping to help out. I haven't seen you here before."

"Oh, yeah. It's my first time. You?"

"I've been coming since September. Haven't gotten much done, sadly." This was slightly awkward. He and Hannah had gotten along fine, but they hadn't been friends or anything. He hadn't seen her since June, and that hadn't really been a loss to him. "How have you been?"

Once again, her smiled faltered. "I've been better," she said, her voice cracking. She glanced over her shoulder where Neville noticed Ernie MacMillian stood, watching them. Leaning closer to Neville, Hannah whispered, "Have you been…kind of haunted since then? Since June?"

"What do you mean?"

"I feel like…like everything that has happened has…affected me. Like, left a mark permanently on my brain. I just can't shake it off. Everything reminds me. When I go to sleep I dream about it. I asked Ernie if that happened to him and he looked at me like I was crazy."

Sympathy filled him; he had never seen her looking so pathetic. Her eyes were glossy with unspilled tears and her bottom lip was starting to bleed from biting it so hard.

"I feel the same way a lot of the time." He smiled kindly at her. "And I bet Ernie does, too, whether he likes to admit it or not."

A sincere smile graced her lips and she unexpectedly threw her arms around Neville. She was taller than he had thought she would be, coming up to about his nose. And she had a lot of hair—a fact he could not help noticing when it was all in his face.

"Well, let's get to work, hm?" she suggested, linking her arm through his. Suddenly it was like they were old friends, walking side by side on a Saturday. She was a very easy person to be with—unafraid to reach out and touch people, welcoming them in. "I'll introduce you to the people you don't know. Neville, this is…"

She went around the circle, naming each person as if they were best friends. Neville was only half paying attention to the names. He was much more interested in examining their faces. Their expressions were familiar to him. Determination. Hope. Each one of them was looking for a way to lend a hand to the reconstruction of their world.

These were the faces he had become so accustomed to the previous year at Hogwarts—the stubborn expressions of the DA. Sure, the people were different, but the faces they wore were just the same—well, almost anyway. Now, they all bore scars.

* * *

**a/n** So, okay beginning? I hope so. This was a little difficult for me to write; I don't feel like I am truly capturing the personalities of Neville and Luna; hopefully that will be easier as I go on, but if anyone has any pointers, I would be glad to hear them. In any case, I absolutely love Luna and Neville :) I think that they are one of the best pairings, and it pisses me off that, on websites, it says JKR didn't put them together. I have a plan for that, though, so....yeah :) Hopefully you will stick around to see!

Thanks for reading!

xox


	3. 02: Business

_**Two₪ Business**_

* * *

"Neville, don't forget that you said you'd go into Hogsmeade today."

Neville glanced up from the newspaper to see who was addressing him. He had thought he was alone in the office and hadn't heard anyone else come in. But there Hannah Abbot was, already flicking through a pile of things on her desk across the cramped room.

"Hm?"

Hannah sighed heavily. "Hogsmeade, remember? You said you would go talk to Madam Rosmerta about renting out the Three Broomsticks?"

"Oh, yes. That. Listen, I was thinking…Maybe we could do it at the Hog's Head. I'm sure Aberforth would give us a discount."

"The Three Broomsticks is larger, and we're going to need all the space we can get. And, frankly, the Hog's Head is a bit dingy. I don't want it to be there, no matter how big of a discount he would give us."

It had been like this for weeks now. Neville was the one who had started the volunteer group; who had asked his grandmother for a bit of money to rent a small space in Diagon Alley to conduct business. _Neville_ was the one who had gone out and rounded up volunteers for the cause. However, Hannah seemed to be under the delusion that this was all her idea, because she had quite taken to bossing Neville around. She had even given herself her own desk in the office without even consulting him. It was bothersome, to say the least.

"Fine, fine," Neville grumbled. "I'm going to go up to Hogwarts, though, to talk to McGonagall. I was thinking that maybe we could get students to attend."

"Actually, I quite like that idea!" Hannah exclaimed, a smile spreading across her weary face. "I don't know why I didn't think of that. Good job, Neville."

"Thanks," he dully replied. In truth, the only reason he had even agreed to do this whole thing was so that he could invite the school to come in hopes that he would finally get to see Luna again. If that hadn't been an option, Neville wouldn't have even considered. It took a lot of planning that took away from actual volunteer time, and he wasn't sure it would even have that good of results.

Silence filled the office, and Neville smiled in contentment. He hadn't slept well the night before—memories of the war were haunting his dreams again—and he needed some peace and quiet. He hadn't been counting on Hannah coming in early and ruining that, so he was pleased that she had busied herself enough to stay quiet for once.

It wasn't that Neville didn't like Hannah—he did. She was a lovely person—strong, brave, and compassionate. It was just that she never shut up. She could go on about the weather for longer than most people could carry out a normal conversation.

Neville took a sip of tea and settled back in his chair. Picking up the paper, he was prepared to resume his reading on Gurdyroot plants when Hannah—loudly—cleared her throat. Sighing, Neville placed the paper back on his desk and expectantly turned his attention to his blonde companion.

"Yes, Hannah?"

"Well, I was just hoping that you could do that sooner rather than later. I still need to make up the advertisement and then Ernie has to bring it around to several different newspapers to have it run. We have to do this quickly, since it is so short notice."

"Yes, yes, alright," Neville begrudgingly agreed. He pushed himself from his desk, brushing the crumbs of that morning's breakfast onto the floor. "While you're at it, have him run another advertisement for the agency. We could always use more volunteers…and people for us to help."

"Alright, sure."

"Okay, I'll see you later, Hannah."

"Yup. See you—wait!"

Neville did his best not to sound agitated when he turned back around and said, "What, Hannah?"

"Don't forget the information. Here." The blonde pulled out a scrap of paper and quickly jotted down what Neville would need to know. "That is what we are aiming to get. If it isn't available, just get as close to this as possible."

"Alright, sure." The boy quickly glanced over the paper and stuck it in his robe pocket. With a short wave at Hannah, he stepped out the door and onto Diagon Alley. It was already looking better than it had two weeks ago when Neville had run into Hannah, Ernie, and the other volunteers. It was then, when he had seen so many others trying to help, that he had thought of making a volunteer group to help with rebuilding the wizarding world. The very next day, he had gone out and rented a space.

And there it was—_Longbottom & Associates Nonprofit Relief Organization. _It was a lengthy and uncreative name, but Neville was looking for informative, not creative. Besides, it wasn't the name of something that made it work, it was the people, and Neville was determined to build a good reputation for his agency with the work they did.

Which he supposed this event that Hannah was planning _would_ do.

It was just irritating that she hadn't even consulted him about it.

How was he supposed to be a leader if no one would let him? Luna had told him that he was a leader; that he was a hero. Right now, though, he just felt like an errand boy.

Neville looked back at his office with a sigh. He just needed to remember that even leaders and heroes yielded to the wants of others. He stuck his hand in his pocket and curled his fingers around the list. This was him yielding.

* * *

Neville arrived, coughing and spluttering, in the old fireplace of the Hog's Head. Although it was early, some of the shifty-looking regulars were already there. Old Aberforth was behind the counter, wiping some goblets with a ratty cloth. He didn't seem to notice Neville's appearance in his pub until the younger approached him.

"Oh, 'ello Neville," the old man greeted in his gravelly voice. He put down the goblet and rag and studied Neville with his glittering blue eyes. "What are yeh doin' here so early?"

"I just thought I'd drop in to say hello. I have some business over at the Three Broomstick's to take care of."

Aberforth cocked an eyebrow. "What kind of business?"

"Well Hannah Abbott—you remember her, right?—she is organizing a dance through my volunteer group and she asked me to go set it up with Madam Rosmerta." Neville paused to consider Aberforth's face. He didn't seem upset, but Neville felt the need to add, "I suggested asking you if we could rent out the Hog's Head, but she wanted to go with Rosmerta's place."

Aberforth shrugged and picked up a new goblet to scrub. "That's expected," he said. "I wouldn't want to have a dance here, either."

Neville cast a look around the pub. He could understand why Hannah wouldn't want to have a dance here, but he didn't really have a problem with it. Maybe it was just because of the connection he had formed with Aberforth the year before, but he sort of…liked it there.

"Well, it's a Halloween dance, so I see no problem with it," Neville replied with a smile; Aberforth just rolled his eyes.

"You should be going on your way, shouldn't you?"

"Yeah, I suppose so. It was nice to see you again."

"You, too."

Neville held his hand up in good-bye and walked out the door. It was a chilly day in Hogsmeade. Neville buried his hands in his pockets as he pushed against the wind.

As he looked around the familiar town, he found it hard to believe he hadn't been here since the final battle. The town was better off than he had expected, considering its proximity to Hogwarts. Zonko's was still boarded up, he noticed with a heavy heart, but most stores were still opened, or at least reopened. Neville had to wonder if the village really hadn't gotten hit too bad, or if people had been working exceptionally hard—and fast—at fixing it back up.

Neville pulled open the door to the empty Three Broomsticks and was greeted by a cheerful jingling of bells over head. A moment later, Madam Rosmerta appeared from a back room. Looking at the way her blonde curls fell over her forehead, Neville was reminded of the crush he had had on her his third and fourth years. Although a good deal older than him—and even his parents—she was still quite attractive.

"Oh, Neville!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here so early? I'm sure it's not for a drink." She gave him a reproachful look.

"No, no, of course not!" Neville cried out. "I'm only eighteen—much too young to be wasting my life away drinking!" If this were four years ago, he would have been embarrassed to bring up his age, as if she weren't already aware of their age difference.

"Exactly," the barmaid agreed. "So what can I do you for then?"

"Well, I was sent here on some business, actually." Neville stuck his hand in his robe pocket and procured the bit of paper Hannah had scratched the information on. Unfolding it, he spread it out before the older woman.

"What's this?"

"Hann—my volunteer group, _Longbottom & Associates Nonprofit Relief Organization, _is hosting a Masquerade Ball. Or at least sh—_we_—are trying to."

Madam Rosmerta knit her brows together as she scanned over the paper. "And you want to rent out my pub?"

"Well, yes. As Hannah—Abbott, do you remember her?"

"Abbott. Oh, yes! Poor girl; she's the one who's mother was murdered two years ago." Madam Rosmerta shook her head. "Shame. Her mother was a lovely woman."

"Er—right." Neville cleared his throat. All of a sudden, he felt terrible; he had forgotten about that. He had barely talked to Hannah throughout school, especially before seventh year. And there had been so much going on that that little fact had…well, it had slipped his mind. "Well, anyway, Hannah is the one who has been working on getting this ball together, and she was hoping we could rent out the pub on Halloween for a Masquerade Ball."

"Well, of course you can!" Madam Rosmerta exclaimed.

"I know it is short notice but it's—wait. You said yes?" Neville spluttered. He had been ready with a long explanation as to why the barmaid should let them; he hadn't been prepared for her to yield so readily.

"Of course I said yes! Did you really think I wouldn't agree?"

"Well, it's such short notice. I mean, it's only sixteen days away…"

"As long as you can get it ready in that amount of time, I'm fine with it."

"Oh…Well, alright then." Neville cleared his throat and, grabbing the paper back, looked over what else Hannah had written for him. "Let's see, the Ball would be from seven until midnight. We'd probably need to come by around three to get it all set up. Is that alright?"

"Sounds good to me."

"And would you prefer it if we cleaned up right away or waited until the morning?"

"Well, you can see how busy I've been lately," the barmaid jokingly said, looking around her empty pub. "So whenever you want is fine. I _do_ actually start getting people by the late afternoon, so as long as everything is cleared out by then…"

"Great!" Neville cheered. "Now about the cost…"

"Oh, don't worry about that."

Now Neville had known that Madam Rosmerta was a nice lady, but this was on the verge of ridiculous. She wasn't requiring any information, and now she was allowing them to do it for free? It was unheard of.

"Madam Rosmerta, I could never—"

"It's for a good cause, isn't it?"

"Well—yes. The proceeds are going towards the reconstruction of villages and...well anyone else who comes to us for help."

"Then don't worry about it. Just consider it my donation."

"Madam—"

"Neville," she said shortly, brushing a loose curl from her green eyes. "I still feel terrible about what I did during the war."

"You were under the Imperius Curse. You didn't—"

"Even so," she interrupted, holding her hand up to silence the young man. "I still feel terrible. So, whatever I can do to help…well, I'll do it."

"Are you sure? What if we gave you five percent?"

"Certainly not!"

"Three?"

"Mr. Longbottom, I told you I am not interested in the money. I just want to help."

"One percent? I feel like we're cheating you otherwise. And I won't leave until you agree to come payment."

Madam Rosmerta sighed. "_Fine._ One percent."

Neville grinned. "Great! Well, it's been a pleasure doing business with you. I just have some business up at the castle, but I will be seeing you soon." He held out his hand for her.

"Yes, I'll be seeing you again soon." She smiled slightly as she gave his hand a firm shake. She definitely seemed much younger than she was.

Neville glanced inside the window as he passed by. She had a sad expression on her face as she set about wiping off her goblets. Neville frowned, wondering what was going through her mind and whether she had lost someone in the war, as everyone else seemed to have.

* * *

"Mr. Longbottom! This is a surprise!"

Neville turned and smiled at his old Herbology professor. She was leading a class of first-years to the greenhouses. "Hello, Professor. How are you?"

The woman bustled over to Neville. She didn't appear to have changed much, though he wouldn't have thought she would have. It had only been a few months since he had last seen her. She still had fly-away gray hair and a kind face; she was still a bit pudgy and she hadn't grown any.

"I'm doing just fine," she beamed. "We're all just doing the best we can. How have you been?" She looked at him knowingly, as if she already knew what he had been up to.

"Oh, I've been alright. Just very busy, is all."

"Luna tells us that you have started a volunteer group? To help the people affected by the war?"

"Oh, uh…Yes, I have. Hannah Abbott is in it as well, actually."

"Is she now!" Professor Sprout exclaimed. Neville had never seen a brighter smile. "I always knew she'd make something of herself! She just needed some self-confidence is all!" Neville knew she was referring to the time Hannah had freaked out during a Herbology exam and called herself stupid.

"Yes, er, she is doing well. She is actually the reason I am here."

Professor Sprout cocked an eyebrow curiously.

"I have some business with the Headmistress. Hopefully it will all go well and you will know what it is about soon."

"Well, the best of luck to you, Mr. Longbottom," she said sincerely.

"Thank you, Professor." He was about to turn and carry on his way, but paused. "Professor? Do you happen to know the password to the Headmistress's office?"

"Oh, yes. It's," she paused, looking around to see if any of her students were listening in. Then, getting up on her tip-toes—which was still not enough; Neville had to bend—she whispered, "_Aethonan."_

_"Aethonan?" _Neville whispered back. "What is that?"

"A type of winged horse found in Ireland and Britain," the plump professor answered.

"Oh, alright. Thank you, Professor."

"Of course, dear."

As Neville walked away, he could hear one of the first years ask about him. Professor Sprout proudly replied, "That's Neville Longbottom. He's one of the heroes of our school—best student I have ever taught." And all of the first years made awed noises and looked back at him.

Smiling to himself, he began to ascend the stairs to the Entrance Hall when he caught sight of something that hadn't been there before. Getting closer, he realized that it was the monument Luna had mentioned to him.

It was a fantastic piece, made entirely of bronze. The base was a big block with at least fifty names etched into it. The image on top kept changing forms, though, to show an image of all of those who had died defending the castle. Neville placed his finger besides one name and looked up—the statue had stopped changing forms, remaining instead o the image of the person whose name he had chosen. Taking a deep breath, Neville moved his finger to Remus Lupin's name. His heart felt heavy as he looked at the statue take the form of his favorite Defense Against the Dark Art's teacher. He knew that if he kept looking he would end up crying, but he couldn't stop himself. The memorial held a strange fascination to him. He passed his finger over each name and looked at the statue change to that person. He was surprised to see Vincent Crabbe, someone who Neville had assumed had died fighting _against _them, but he was a student at Hogwarts after all. He supposed they just felt it necessary to include him.

Finally, Neville's finger landed on the last name in the alphabetical list. He felt himself gasp; a lump formed in his throat. _Fred Weasley._ For several moments, he couldn't bring himself to look up, afraid of what he might see. But finally, he forced his head up and beheld the statue. He was surprised by the likeness to the original it held—a sturdy fellow, relatively tall, well built. He was caught in a smile so real you could almost see the twinkle in his bronze eye. At his feet, there was a Beater's bat and a bunch of different items he had been known to use, some of his own invention.

At this thought, Neville pulled his finger away, unable to look anymore. He still couldn't believe that Fred was dead. Fred, a guy he had known, been friendly with even. His friend's older brother. A well-liked guy. Funny. Young. _Fred._

Neville shook his head and stepped away from the memorial. He swallowed hard, hoping the lump in his throat would just go away. He didn't want to cry, but the tears were already forming in his brown eyes. He stubbornly wiped them away on his sleeve, determined to look put together when he addressed McGonagall.

The castle was looking good. Luna and the rest of the students had done a fine job at fixing it up. Though, when he looked closely, Neville could still see the difference between the new and the old. And, when he shut his eyes, he could see everything that used to be there and wasn't anymore. When he shut his eyes, he could see images of different things that had happened there; he could see the faces of those who fought there.

It was amazing how different it all seemed now. Maybe it was just because he was coming back as a visitor, but Neville suspected there was more to it than that. It was because so much had changed here—so many lives had been affected or even destroyed.

As Neville walked through the familiar corridors, he realized that the difference wasn't just on the surface. It wasn't in the destruction still not fully repaired. It wasn't even about the students, although they did seem more subdued than Neville was used to. The change was in the school itself—in its bones. It held what happened there like a memory, and no matter how many generations past, it would still be there, telling its stories of the horrors it had faced to anyone who would listen.

Neville arrived at the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's Tower without much delay. The students were all in class, so there were no crowds for him to fight against, or people to distract him. He could have wandered around for hours, losing himself in his memories there, but he knew he had business to attend to. So, with minimal detours, he had gotten himself there.

Neville stared at the gargoyle for several minutes, the password already lost to him. He had never had the best memory, and the word seemed so obscure to him that it just didn't stick.

"I know it starts with an 'a,'" he told the gargoyle, but the stone was not impressed.

"It was some sort of animal."

Apparently, the gargoyle wanted the specific word. These little bits of information about it didn't do anything for it.

But that didn't stop Neville from trying.

"Four legs….Centaur! No, no; that doesn't start with an 'a.' It was a horse! Yes, some type of horse!"

"Longbottom! What are you doing here?"

That sharp tone had never sounded so good to Neville's ears. He turned sheepishly towards his old Transfiguration professor waved.

"Hello, Professor. How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you," she briskly replied. "Now is there a reason you are harassing this gargoyle or is it merely for your amusement?"

"Oh—er…I was looking for you, actually."

McGonagall arched an eyebrow inquisitively. "Well, what about?"

"Well, my volunteer group is hosting—"

Professor McGonagall raised a hand to silence him. "This sounds like something I want to be sitting for. You may come up." She swept past him to stand before the stone gargoyle. "_Aethonan._"

"_That_ was it!" Neville exclaimed, mentally slapping himself for allowing it to slip out of his mind.

The professor just shook her head; some things never changed. "Are you coming up or not?"

"Right!" Neville followed her through the archway and onto the spiral staircase. He was wondering why they were just standing there when it started to move, leading them up to the office. He had forgotten about that little trick. By the time they got to the top, Neville felt quite dizzy.

"This way," the tight-lipped woman said, ushering her old student into the circular office. Neville had only been in it once before when he, Ginny, and Luna had tried to steal the Sword of Gryffindor. It had changed since then. Somehow it seemed more…simple and light. McGonagall didn't keep many things hanging around. Though he did see a few things that had been there the year before…He wondered if they belonged to Dumbledore.

Neville waited for the Headmistress to take a seat behind the desk before sinking into the chair before her.

"Biscuit?" the woman offered, holding a tin out.

"Yes, please. Thank you." Neville timidly took a shortbread from the tin and proceeded to nibble on it. His old Transfiguration professor had always managed to scare him.

"So, what was this about a volunteer group?"

"Oh, I formed a nonprofit organization to help people rebuild their lives. It's just a small little thing, but we are really trying to help make a difference."

Neville was surprised to see a smile spread across his old teacher's face. "Very good, Mr. Longbottom. I think you have been a real hero during this whole thing. Your parents would be proud."

Neville felt the backs of his ears turn pink as he mumbled a quick, "Thanks." He had never been very good at taking compliments, especially when his parents were mentioned.

"Now, what were you planning on doing?"

"Well Hannah—"

"Abbott?"

"Yes. She and Ernie Macmillian are both in it with me."

"Really?" She looked both shocked and proud. "Well, I must say I am pleased to see that so many continue to fight, even after all of the battles are done. It's…refreshing."

"Oh, well…Thank you!" Neville said, taken-aback. He would never get used to getting compliments from her.

"I apologize; I interrupted you. You were saying?"

"Right. Well, Hannah had this idea to host a Masquerade Ball to raise money so we had funds to work with. I was just talking to Madam Rosmerta, and we've rented out the Three Broomstick's to hold it in. And I was wondering if you'd let the students come?"

"Hm…"

She was considering it; that was a good sign.

"When is it?"

"Halloween—a Friday. And since there is no class on Saturdays, that should be no problem. And I know it is short notice, but—"

"They wouldn't have anything to wear to this."

"I didn't think of that. But, I bet I could persuade Madam Malkin to come by next Saturday with some things for them to look at and buy, if they're interested. Or they could send for stuff from home…"

The professor considered him for a few minutes in silence. "You seem very eager for this to happen. Why?"

He should have been expecting this question, yet he hadn't. And he didn't think his real answer—that he just wanted to see Luna—would really win him anything. So, quickly, he racked his brain for another excuse.

"Well, when we had the Yule Ball, the people who are sevenths years now were only third years then. That means they never had the opportunity to go—unless they had been invited by an upperclassman…like Ginny. Plus, I think it would be fun for them to go to. And, well there are a lot of students here, and that means a lot more guaranteed money to help out."

The woman stared at him for a few moments more; Neville hoped that she approved of his reasons. He thought they were pretty valid. Much more than his real one, in any case. Well, not so much his real one—the things he said were true, too, and he did care about them. But the idea of seeing Luna was what had really excited him.

"Alright, Longbottom. You win."

"Really?" Neville felt a grin breaking out on his face.

"Why do you always seem so surprised when I give in to these requests? I'm really not as terrible as you all think I am." She peered over her spectacles at her old pupil, a twinkle in her eye and a smile on her face.

Neville couldn't help but laugh. "Not terrible, professor. Just scary."

"Yes, well." The Headmistress cleared her throat and looked away. "What are the particulars of this event? You said it is on Halloween?"

"Yes, at seven o'clock p.m. to midnight. It is a Masquerade Ball, so masks are required. We will be selling at the door, but we could also bring some by with Madam Malkin. It's a sickle for entry, though more donations are always appreciated."

McGonagall nodded along as she wrote the details down. "Of course, teachers will be escorting them down to the grounds."

"Naturally."

"And we can only allow third through seventh years, since they are the only one allowed out of the village."

"That is quite sensible; I hadn't thought of that…"

McGonagall smiled kindly at him, as if she found this typical for him. Neville felt himself blush, but he couldn't get angry about that. He had always been a bit absent-minded.

"It was very good of you to think of inviting the school. I'm sure they'll be quite pleased. Things have been a bit…dismal lately, I'm sure you can imagine."

"Yes, of course," Neville agreed.

"I will announce this tonight at supper."

"Alright, thank you, Professor."

"You are quite welcome, Longbottom." She held out her hand; Neville took it and gave an awkward shake.

"G'bye, Professor."

"Yes, good-bye, Longbottom."

Neville turned and headed back towards the door. As he was about to exit, he paused and turned back around. "I, uh, saw the memorial out front. It's very…" He swallowed hard. "Very nice."

McGonagall had gotten a bit misty eyed herself at the mention of the memorial. She cleared her throat and nodded. "Yes, I think so as well."

The eighteen-year-old pressed his lips together and nodded. Then, with a stiff wave, he left.

* * *

Neville remained busy until he settled in at home for the night. He was exhausted from the day, though really all he had done was talk to people. So much had gotten done at the office though that he just felt drained. Hannah had made up the advertisements for the ball and the volunteer agency and, as Ernie ran them around to different newspapers to have them run. As he did that, Neville and Hannah went out to different villages to post advertisements. Neville didn't get home until after supper.

Now it was well past dark, and he lay awake, thinking about the ball. Now that he knew Hogwarts students could come, it didn't seem so bad. He could see Luna—and Ginny, too. It had been far too long since he had spoken to Ginny. They had exchanged a few letters over the summer, but once school started that came to an end. Neville hadn't realized how much he missed her, but it suddenly came to him as a dull ache.

He missed everyone.

Luna, Ginny, Seamus, Dean, Parvati, Padma, Hermione, Ron, Harry...That was just naming a few. He missed being at school and the DA. He had formed a bond there, and now…well, now the only people he interacted with on a regular basis were Hannah, Ernie, and his gran.

With a sigh, Neville lifted himself from his bed and shuffled over to his desk. As usual, he had left his parchment out. So, grabbing a small piece from the top of the pile, he sat down and prepared himself to write a short letter.

_October 15, 1997_

_Dear Luna,_

_I'm sure you heard about the Masquerade Ball by now. McGonagall, I'm sure, has gone over the particulars. But there is one thing I am sure you haven't heard yet:_

_You're my hidden date._

_So make sure you have a mask and a gown by Halloween, because I'll be looking for you there._

_Your Friend,_

_Neville_

Neville sealed the letter before he could rethink it. Earlier that day, he had yielded to the wants of others. Now, it was his turn to get what he wanted. He wasn't going to let his nerves stop him this time—Luna was going to be his date.

* * *

**a/n **This chapter was a long time coming. Sorry. Finally, though, I got this up. And it only took me two days to write :) I am very proud of myself for that. In any case, I hope you liked it. I am currently working on the next chapter of Pro List, if anyone is interested, and also a Seamus Finnigan fanfiction which, once I finish the first chapter, I will be posting. Check them out if you are interested :) All three of this stories will sort of iterconnect, too, just so you know. I like doing that :)

Right! So, reviews are always appreciated.

xoxx


	4. 03: Masquerade

_**Three₪ Masquerade**_

* * *

"Neville—go help Ernie. Please?"

It was the first time Hannah had said 'please' all day. The party had—needless to say—put quite a lot of stress on her. Her frantic motions, bossiness, and frizzed hair quite reminded Neville of Hermione.

"Okay, fine," Neville grumbled. "But only because you said 'please.'"

"Thank you," Hannah simpered, collapsing onto a chair.

Ever since Neville had returned to the office a little over two weeks ago with the good news, there had been no rest. Hannah had him, Ernie, and anyone else who showed up to help, picking things up and dropping things off day in and day out. Whenever Neville stopped to breathe, Hannah appeared as if from nowhere with something else that needed to be done.

Two days after getting approval for the ball, Neville returned to Hogwarts with Madam Malkin, a few of her employees, and a huge supply of dress robes. The turn-out had been tremendous. All day students from third through seventh year came milling into the room off the Entrance Hall—the room used to et first years in order before the big sorting—to get sized and to buy robes. Neville was immensely pleased to see so many students interested, but nothing made him happier than seeing Luna float into the room.

As usual, she had had a dreamy expression on her face. Her long, wavy blonde hair was tied loosely in a bun with two silver chopsticks criss-crossing out of them. Her radish earrings dangled delicately from her ears; Neville smiled at the sight of them.

"Luna!" he had called out, tripping over a stool in his excitement.

"Oh, hello Neville," she had replied, her airy voice music to Neville's ears. He had missed that voice more than anything. "I didn't know you would be here."

"I'm here to help Madam Malkin. It's the least I can do after dragging her here on such short notice."

"That's nice."

"There's also masks for sale over there…if you need one…" Neville said, pointing to the far wall where a table for the masks had been set up.

"No, I think I'll make my own."

Visions of Luna's lion hat entered Neville's mind; he wondered if her mask would be anything like that.

"Oh, I have something for you! I've been meaning to send it…" Luna dug around in her bag for a moment, finally procuring a small slip of parchment. She placed it into Neville's hand; his face burned at the touch of her skin.

"Are you alright?" she had wondered, staring at Neville with her large blue eyes.

"I'm—I'm fine," Neville coughed.

"Good. You should go, I think."

Taken aback, Neville had stuttered, "W-why?"

"Well you can't see which robe I buy. Then you'll be able to find me." She smiled softly at him. Neville was rendered breathless by the sparkle in her eye.

"Oh—er…I s'pose you're right."

She smiled again. "It was nice to see you again, Neville."

"You, too, Luna."

Neville had smiled—or attempted to smile—at her, fingering the note she had given him, as he walked out.

Now, exactly two weeks later, Neville would finally get to see what robe she had chosen. He couldn't pretend that he wasn't excited, though he doubted it would matter what she wore. She would look amazing either way.

"Neville?"

"Right, sorry. I'm helping Ernie!" Neville hurried outside where Ernie was struggling to lift the large, gold fountain Hannah had brought from home. Hannah had told Neville and Ernie about this and suggested it be used as a drinking fountain. Both had agreed that it was a good idea, but that was before they knew it was large enough to bathe a small child in.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," Neville recited, waving his wand at the fountain, lifting it into the air. With great care, Neville guided it into the Three Broomsticks.

"Where do you want this, Hannah?"

Hannah stared at it thoughtfully for a moment before replying. "Would the center be poor placement?"

"If you want people to be dancing."

"Yes, good point…How about by those tables over there? The ones for the food…"

"Wonderful," Neville replied, walking the fountain very slowly to its location.

"And then we can surround it by the food. Not completely, obviously, otherwise no one could get a drink…but mostly. Does that sound nice to you?"

"It sounds beautiful, Hannah," Neville replied honestly. Originally, he had not been keen on the idea of the ball. Ever since he got approval from McGonagall, though, he had grown steadily more excited. Now, the day of the ball, he was very much looking forward to that night and wanted nothing more than for everything to be perfect.

So far, Neville had to admit that things were looking very good. The tables had been cleared away from the center to make room for dancing. Now, only a dozen or so outlined the perimeter. Each table was draped with gold cloth with a simple white candle sitting in the center. Candles reminiscent of those in the Great Hall floated about the room. Black cloths glittering with purples, oranges, yellows, and greens were draped all about the walls. By the bar, a bandstand had been set up for the live band Ernie had managed to book last minute.

"It looks good, doesn't it?" Hannah commented. She looked around the room with a smile on her face. She had worked hard to make this come together—Neville was glad that she was pleased.

"It does. All we need now is the banner, the food, and some people."

"Oh, I can't wait!" Hannah exclaimed. Her face was glowing with excitement; suddenly, she didn't look so harried anymore. The sparkle of her eyes reminded Neville of Luna.

"Me, neither."

* * *

Suddenly, it was seven o'clock. Neville wasn't quite sure where the time had went. One second it was three and they were just starting to set up, the next it was four hours later and the Masquerade Halloween Ball was beginning.

Neville stood by the entrance with Hannah, fiddling with the square of parchment Luna had handed him.

_**'I'd love to.'**_

That was all Luna had written—three little words—and yet Neville couldn't stop smiling at them. Had anyone ever said that to him before? Probably not. When Neville had asked Ginny to the Yule Ball nearly four years ago, she hadn't said anything more than an unsure, "Yes."

I'd love to.

"Neville! Stop daydreaming! People are here!" Hannah barked, running around to the other side of the table where she would collect money.

An influx of people suddenly filled the street outside of the Three Broomsticks. Each wore their own unique robe and mask; some came in couples, others came alone. There were witches and wizards of all ages. Neville couldn't say he recognized a single one, but he welcomed them all warmly before sending them off to Hannah and Ernie to pay.

The popping sound which came with Apparating was ringing in Neville's ears as people continued to arrive. The room was filling up quickly; Neville hadn't been anticipating such a large turn-out.

"We may have to close the doors early at this rate!" Ernie commented when there was a lull in the arrivals.

"No!" Neville snapped quite uncharacteristically. "I mean…not before the Hogwarts people make it here. It wouldn't be fair to them."

"Neville's right," Hannah said. "Professor McGonagall went through a lot of trouble to get them to come—it wouldn't be right to close the doors before they got here." She glanced around the room with a concerned expression. "Soon afterwards, though, we probably should."

A few more people arrived after that conversation, but, thankfully, it seemed that the bulk of the guests had already arrived. All they were waiting for now was the Hogwarts students.

"Neville, why don't you see if the band needs any help setting up?" Hannah suggested. Music was playing, but it was just a cassette, and Hannah was adamant that most of the music should be live.

Reluctantly, Neville weaves his way through the crowd to the bandstand. The Hogs—a group of four consisting of boys Neville had gone to school with, one from each house—were busy setting up their instruments and didn't even notice him there.

"Do you need any help?" he offered loudly. The four lifted their heads simultaneously in response.

"Neville?" the bass player—Jesse Fujimaki, a former Ravenclaw two years older than him—said curiously. "Is that you?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry." He had forgotten that he was wearing a mask. "Is there anything you guys need?"

"No, we're okay, thanks. Looks like the front could use some, though. Is that the Hogwarts group?"

Neville looked over his shoulder. It was hard to get a good view of the door, but, judging by the amount of people flooding into the building, Neville had to believe that Jesse was right.

"We'll be ready to play in a few minutes."

"Great. I'll just let Hannah know."

Neville turned, strangely aware of his heart beating wildly against his chest. He could hear each beat echoing in his ears—could count each beat. In that moment, nothing seemed more important than getting to that door and scouring the crowd for her. Would he recognize her with the mask? Neville didn't see how he couldn't recognize her. To him, there was no mistaking her.

"Neville!" a familiar voice cried, grabbing his arm.

Neville jerked backwards and found himself facing Ginny, only recognizable by her vibrant Weasley hair. All he could see of her face was her bright smile and her brown eyes; the rest covered by a red and gold mask.

"Hullo Ginny," he greeted. He smiled at his good friend, but eyes were elsewhere, searching.

Ginny didn't seem to notice, however, and pulled him into a hug. "I missed you!" she exclaimed. "I feel like I haven't talked to you in ages."

"It has been a long time," Neville agreed. "I'm sorry I haven't written more," he added sincerely. He missed Ginny a lot; the two had become very close the past year. However, he hadn't had much time for writing, and all of the time he did have went to writing to Luna.

"That's perfectly alright. Luna tells me you've been very busy," Ginny replied, staring knowingly at her friend.

"Yes, I have been. Hannah's been a madwoman; I've had no time for myself. But," Neville paused, looking around the pub contentedly, "I think it was all worth it."

"It's lovely," Ginny said, smiling again. "And Neville?"

Neville's eyes, which had started wandering again, snapped back towards Ginny. The corners of her mouth were twisted up into a smile as she watched Neville—like she knew just what he was up to.

"I'm proud of you."

Neville knit his eyebrows together curiously. "What for?"

"This!" Ginny exclaimed, gesturing to the party. "For starting _Longbottom & Associates Nonprofit Relief Organization_; for throwing this party to raise some money to help people out. You're a good guy, Neville Longbottom."

"Thanks," Neville murmured; he felt the backs of his ears grow red. "The party was Hannah's idea, though."

"Either way, it's still wonderful." She glanced around the room, wringing her hands together almost nervously. "Neville?" she whispered, leaning closer to him.

"What is it?"

"Have you seen Harry?"

"Actually, now that I think of it, I haven't," Neville said slowly. "I thought for sure he would come."

"Oh, I'm sure he will!" Ginny reassured him. "It's just…well, he and I are having a contest about who can find who first, and I want to win. I wouldn't expect you to tell me exactly where he was, obviously—that would be cheating. But just to know he's here, somewhere…"

"Well, I haven't seen him. I'll let you know if I do."

"Thank you." Ginny gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go. Neville hadn't even realized she had been holding it until that moment. He smiled warmly at her, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Don't worry, she's here, too."

"Who's here?" Neville replied, perhaps a little too quickly.

"The girl you've been looking for," Ginny said. She was staring rather hard at him, her eyes boring into his skin. Neville squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. He wasn't sure he liked her reading him like that; it was very different from the way Luna always seemed to know what was on his mind.

"I have to go help Hannah," he said awkwardly. He had never been any good with departures.

"Of course. I'll see you soon," Ginny beamed.

Neville flashed her a crooked smile and disappeared back into the crowd of people, excusing himself left and right as he desperately attempted to make it back to the door. He wasn't sure how many toes he had tread on, but he was positive it was too many.

"Excellent timing, mate!" Ernie said, clapping Neville on the back. "You just missed the Hogwarts crowd. A lot showed up—looks like we've got a full house now, eh?"

Neville scanned the room; there was barely room to turn around. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not, but Hannah seemed rather pleased.

"Look how much money we made!" she screeched, waving a sheet in Neville's face which Neville had the feeling she didn't really intend for him to read. "Neville, this is amazing! I didn't think so many people would come!" Hannah danced around the table and threw her arms around Neville, catching him by surprise.

He awkwardly pat her on the back before trying to pull away. "Shall I close the door then? Looks like we've reached full capacity. If anyone else joins, we'll be like a can of tuna."

Hannah and Ernie both stared blankly at Neville, not understanding the reference. Neville shook his head dismissively. "Never mind. Should I close the door?"

"Yes, I think that is for the best," Hannah said, though by the sounds of it she wanted more people to come.

"Hannah, this is a great turn out," Ernie reassured her, also sensing her tone. "There's more than enough people. Any more, and we'd be pushing it."

"Yes, I know you two are right! Okay," she sighed, turning back to Neville with her pleading eyes. "Could you please?"

"Of course."

Neville stepped outside, taking his first breath of fresh air in he wasn't even sure how long. It was crisp outside—cool. A gentle breeze played with the ends of his robes and ruffled his hair. It was the perfect fall evening.

Neville opened his mouth to take another deep breath of it when he heard the footsteps pounding against the pavement followed by a loud shout, "WAIT!"

Neville paused, his hand on the door knob. He squinted through the darkness at the running man, but he knew it was useless. There was no way he'd be able to tell who it was.

He was closer now, just a few steps away. Neville moved to close the door, but as soon as he did, the man called out again, "Don't close it quite yet!"

He was obviously out of breath, but that didn't matter—Neville could recognize that accent anywhere. "Seamus Finnigan!" he exclaimed, smiling at the sight of his friend.

"I've been through bloody hell and back to get here," Seamus panted. He rested his hand on Neville's shoulder to take a breath. "Don't close that door on me."

"Calm down—you can come in," Neville said soothingly as he guided the angry Irishman into the pub. In the light, it became apparent that Seamus really _had _been through a lot to get there. His sandy hair was standing on end; his face was bright red; he had a black eye and a cut on his forehead. Neville had never known him to be a neat dresser—in fact, Seamus was somewhat of a slob—but he appeared even more disheveled than usual. His dress robes were somewhat dirty and seemed to be falling off of him. The buttons didn't line up, giving him an almost lopsided look, and he hadn't tucked in his shirt.

"Bloody—Seamus, what happened to you?" Neville exclaimed.

"Eh? Oh, just got into a bit of a tumble s'all." He flashed one of his famous grins to his old friend. "But I couldn' let that stop me, eh?"

"Stop you from what?"

"I'll take one of those," Seamus said, pointing at one of the masks they had for sale. "Any one will do." He winked at Hannah; she merely rolled her eyes, quite used to his flirtatious behavior. Taking the blue and black mask Hannah handed him—no doubt to match his eye—Seamus turned back to Neville. "Help me put this on mate?"

"Oh—er—sure." Neville accepted the mask, gently placing it on his friend's face and then tying it tightly in the back. "Good?"

"Yeah." He faced Neville and grinned. "How do I look?"

"Well…" Neville sized him up again. It was hard to say how he looked, since he was so used to Seamus's sloppy appearance.

"Be honest—I have to look me best for me Bride."

"You think you're going to find a wife here?" Neville asked incredulously. "I don't think that's—"

"Who said anything about a wife?" Seamus snorted.

"You just said—"

"Not that sort of bride!" Seamus laughed. "_Me_ Bride! Bridey Byrne." His mouth twisted into a wistful smile as he said her name.

"Oh. Oh! Well, that makes more sense," Neville admitted.

Behind the table, Hannah snorted. "You think you'll impress Bridey like that?"

"What do you mean by that?" Seamus roared, affronted by her comment.

"She barely puts up with you as it is. She won't be pleased to see you like…Like this!" She gestured at his robes and glanced distastefully at his hair. "Have you ever heard of a mirror?"

"Yes," Seamus said defensively.

"Do you own one?"

"O' course I do!"

Hannah sighed, shaking her head. "Let me help you." She came back around the table and started to fix him up—adjusting his robes, fixing his buttons, and tucking his shirt into his pants for him. From her pocket she procured a comb and set to work at flattening his hair.

"Much better," she said, stepping back to admire her work. "You are looking quite smart now."

"Better than Neville, eh?" Seamus joked, playfully nudging Neville.

Hannah turned and stared at Neville. "No, I wouldn't say better," she said thoughtfully as she straightened Neville's robe. "You both look very smart. Any girl would be lucky to have you." She grinned up at Neville; he looked away.

"Great! I'm gonna go find me Bride now!" Seamus exclaimed, grinning widely as he threw himself into the packed room. Neville had never seen an expression like that on Seamus's face before. He looked almost like he was…in love. It was about time, too. He had been flirting and teasing that poor girl for years now. It had been obvious to even Neville that there was something there. Finally, he was acting on it.

Luna.

Neville took a deep breath to steady himself and stared back at the crowd. Seamus was making some sort of move—why couldn't he?

"I'll be back," Neville announced.

"Where are you going?" Ernie asked curiously.

"To find someone."

With a determined expression, Neville made his way back out onto the dance floor. So many colors were spinning around him, it was almost nauseating. As he scanned the crowd, he saw a few familiar people. There were Ron and Hermione, masks off since they had found each other. There was Lavender Brown, looking radiant in her light pink dressing gowns, her scars proudly displayed, talking with the Patil twins. Percy Weasley was dancing with some brunette. Dennis Creevey was taking pictures of everyone with his brother's old camera.

There were Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein. And over there was Lee Jordan. Oliver Wood was there was a blonde Neville remembered being in Hufflepuff, maybe two years older than him, though he never knew her name. Dean Thomas was dancing with Katie Bell. In the back corner Neville spotted a tuft of red. Following it, he found George Weasley sitting at a table with a girl Neville remembered from the D.A., Meril Lizlow. Both looked very subdued, their faces solemn as they ate.

And then there she was.

She stood by the food, fascinated as she watched the butterbeer spewing out of the gold fountain. Her long hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves, contrasting nicely with her sparkling midnight-blue robe. In place of her usual turnip earrings were small silver spirals; a dozen or more silver bangles adorned her arm.

She was stunning.

"Luna—" Neville nervously called out taking a step towards the fountain.

The girl turned slowly and looked around. Catching sight of Neville, she smiled slightly. "Hello Neville."

Her mask was beautiful, wrapped in silky fabrics of midnight blue, cerulean, silver, and indigo and covering only the top half of her face. Neville was surprised—and, to be honest, a little disappointed—at how normally she was dressed. She looked wonderful—_beautiful_—but it didn't seem like Luna. That was when he noticed the bottlecap necklace hanging heavily around her neck.

"Hello, Luna," Neville said. As usual, she was making him nervous. He felt his face burning beneath the mask and he fidgeted uncomfortable, suddenly feeling as if thousands of needles were poking his skin.

"You look b-beautiful," Neville stuttered. He stretched his collar away from his throat; was anyone else finding it suffocating in there?

Luna cocked her head to the side curiously. "Are you alright? I thought I felt a wrackspurt flying around here. Perhaps it's found you," she suggested airily.

"I'm fine," Neville assured her.

"Good." She smiled at him again, her orb-like eyes firmly fixed on him, penetrating him straight through to the soul. If it were anyone else, this would have made Neville uncomfortable, but Luna's stare always made Neville feel at ease, despite the fact that he knew she was reading him—every thought, every emotion, even the most private.

"Let's dance," she said suddenly. Without warning, she took hold of Neville's hand and started to sway to the music. She closed her eyes, a serene smile flitting over her features.

Neville smiled to himself as he looked at her. He took a step forward, for once allowing himself to act without thinking, and grabbed her other hand. Her eyes opened in surprise at the action, but they quickly warmed, shining bright with a smile. He stepped closer to her staring down at her face. She stopped swaying.

He was going to do it.

He had been wanting to for so long now—he wasn't going to hold back any more.

He was a leader now. Surely he could initiate a simple kiss?

Neville looked back down at her. She didn't look as if she was expecting him to do anything more, but she was curious about his intentions.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and leaned closer.

He could do this.

He was a Gryffindor—brave; courageous.

He had led battles, defied Death Eaters, killed the Dark Lord's snake—surely he could kiss Luna Lovegood.

Neville jerked his head to the side, resting it against her cheek instead. Letting go of her hands, he wrapped his arms around her slight body.

Who was he kidding? There was no way he could have done it.

"Oh…" she said quietly, wrapping her arms around him delicately. He had never heard her voice sound so meek. She had always had a soft, quiet voice, but it had always been strong. Was she disappointed?

"Dance with me."

Luna rested her head on Neville's chest and started to sway. Neville could feel her heart beating; could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. It smelt of raspberries and rain; Neville had never smelt anything more intoxicating in his life, and he knew he never would.

"Luna," Neville began. He didn't know what he was going to say, but the silence was unbearable. He wanted to hear her speak—to listen to her spin magic with her voice.

"Shh. I'm listening to your heart." She looked up at him curiously. "It's beating very fast," she commented. "Have you encountered any murkles lately?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Oh, you wouldn't know," Luna replied seriously. "They enter the body through the mouth during sleep and infest the heart and stomach, making them uneasy. Do you sleep with your mouth open?"

"Oh—err—I dunno. I might."

"I do." She returned her head to Neville's chest and breathed contentedly. "I think a murkle must have found me; my tummy is dancing."

"Yeah; mine is, too."

* * *

**a/n** So, I am not sure if this turned out quite the way that I wanted it to, but I hope you like it anyway. I almost wrote more about what happened after the ball with cleaing up or whatever, but I didn't see the point, and I thought it would be much better if I ended it with Neville and Luna. And, I don't know about you, but I think that last scene with him and Luna is pretty cute. Not the cutest thing ever, but I think it's adorable. Everything involving them is adorable, really...Definitely MY favorite couple in the series...even though JKR is stupid and never puts them together -_-

So, um, review with what you think?

Thanks!

Oh, and thanks to everyone who has added this to their favorite stories! It means a lot to me.

xox


	5. 04: Searching

_**Four₪ Searching**_

* * *

"I would just like to take this time to thank everyone for coming out here. If it weren't for you, we would just have a decorated bar and even less money than we started with. But thanks to everyone's generous contributions, our grand total for tonight is twenty-seven knuts, sixteen sickles, and _one-hundred-and-thirty-**thousand**_ galleons! Everyone give yourselves a round of applause!"

Hannah was grinning from ear to ear as she looked around the room, taking in her success. As the guests all clapped and cheered, her grin widened. They could have just kept going, but there was something else she had to say.

Grabbing onto the microphone stand, she stepped forward again, and the applause slowly died away. "Now, it's an hour until midnight. So if you haven't found your lover yet, you only have an hour left to do so!" She grinned out at them all again; she had never felt so good before. "Enjoy the rest of your night everyone."

Neville watched as she stepped down from the bandstand and rejoined the dance floor with Ernie MacMillian. He had been so busy before looking for Luna that he didn't have time to notice, but she looked beautiful. Her long blonde hair was back in a bun and curls framed her face. Her orange and gold robe was long with bell sleeves and made of a silk-y material. Her mask was plain white with a gold-sequin trim and had three short orange feathers coming off either side.

But what really stuck out was her smile. She had been so stressed the past few weeks that all she had done was frown, it seemed. Now all she could do was smile and laugh as Ernie twirled her around the dance floor.

"Would you like anything to eat?" Neville offered, turning back towards Luna. They had stepped off the dance floor and were just standing there in silence, watching everyone else dancing.

"Oh, no," Luna said lightly. A smile flickered across her face as she stared up at Neville. Her hand still held loosely in his, she swung her arm.

Neville tightened his hold on her hand and beamed down at her. He could see the whole night sky shining in her eyes.

"Would you like to get some fresh air?" Neville asked; it was getting stuffy in the pub. He was starting to sweat—and not just from nerves. He still couldn't believe he was holding her hand.

"I'd like that. But we'll have to be careful not to step on any Blibbering Humdingers, though. They're usually out this time of year…"

"A-alright," Neville said unsurely in reply. He had never heard of a Blibbering Humdinger before and was in the middle of wondering if they were real or not when Luna spoke again.

"My father interviewed someone for _The Quibbler _once. They said they saw a bunch of them by a lake. Could we check?"

"You want—you want to go in the lake?" Neville stuttered. The water, which was usually quite cold, would have to be near freezing.

"Oh, no," Luna said, laughing lightly. "Just around it."

"Oh." Neville eased considerably. "Okay."

The cool October air felt nice on Neville's skin after spending four hours locked in the stuffy indoors. He inhaled deeply, breathing properly for the first time in just as many hours. With that breath, he had nothing to be nervous about, because, with his eyes closed, he could almost pretend Luna was not beside him, and all his nerves disappeared.

He exhaled and opened his eyes.

Luna was, of course, still there. Her face, almost blue in the moonlight, was turned up towards the sky. Neville found himself staring at her, his eyes absorbing every detail—her slender jaw; the curvature of her nose; the freckle on her neck.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" Luna breathed; she briefly glanced at Neville before staring back up at the heavens.

"Yes, it is," he agreed; his eyes never leaving her face.

She exhaled slowly, her gaze returning to the earth. Her eyes found Neville's and she blinked a few times. Slowly, the corners of her mouth lifted into a gentle smile. Then, wordlessly, she started off down the old familiar path to the castle.

Neville remained still for a moment, just watching as she drifted down the cobblestone street. The moonlight was absorbed by her long, blonde hair, tinting it blue, and her midnight-blue robes shimmered and glittered.

She looked majestic.

"Neville?"

Neville caught up with her, and the two continued on in silence. Every so often, Neville's fingers would brush against her hand and a wonderful shock would be sent through his body.

He was backtracking now.

How was it that he had held her hand—had danced with her—but now the slightest brush of her skin against his was enough to get his heart racing again—for his face to burn?

He'd never have enough confidence…He could be the bravest person in the world, but there was something about Luna Lovegood that made him weak at the knees.

At some point, they turned off of the path and continued to walk along the shore of the Black Lake. Their pace slowed as Luna scoured the ground for Blibbering Humdingers.

"What do they look like?" Neville whispered, his voice piercing the serene silence.

"They are quite extraordinary," Luna whispered back. "They resemble large caterpillars, but they have feathered wings, and usually they are purple. They have very sharp teeth, though, so you should watch out…"

Neville was quite doubtful that such a thing existed, but he didn't voice his opinion and instead settled on searching the tall grass for one of these creatures. He wasn't sure how large 'large' was, but he was prepared for the worst.

"They also have long tongues," Luna added thoughtfully a few minutes later. "They sort of just loll out of their mouths like this." She straightened and demonstrated, her tongue falling out of her mouth and her eyes crossing. Neville threw his head back and laughed, and the sound was soon joined by Luna's own light, tinkling laughter.

"What's the purpose of them?" Neville asked as he caught his breath.

Luna's laughter faded; she looked thoughtfully at Neville before replying, "I don't know…"

"Do they do anything?"

"I'm not sure…no one has seen enough of them to find out. Some say their wings have healing properties though." She smiled brightly and continued her search.

Neville watched her for a moment before continuing as well. He loved how she could believe in something without any proof that it existed—how she could believe when everyone else shot her down. She was extraordinary.

Thinking he heard something rustling in the grass, Neville leaned over to take a look. As he was looking, he felt a hand grab onto his shoulder. Flashbacks of Snape filled his mind and he felt his insides freeze. Slowly, he turned his head.

It was just Luna.

Who else would it be?

She smiled softly at him, but it looked like she was trying to keep her balance. Neville's eyes flicked towards her other hand, which was busy removing the shoes from her feet.

"Lu—"

"Shhh!" Luna breathed, pressing a finger to her smiling lips. Her silver eyes twinkled merrily and she removed her hand from Neville's shoulder, slinking off into the grass in search of the Blibbering Humdinger.

Giving up his search, Neville stretched out on the ground and stared up at the stars. The grass was wet and scratchy, but he didn't mind. After so much rushing around the past few weeks and being stuck in stuffy rooms, it felt nice to just lay there in the stillness.

"Can you find any constellations?"

It was a whisper so soft that it didn't disturb the tranquility. Neville slowly turned his head to face her; she lay beside him in the grass, her long hair fanning out around her head. How had she gotten there? She was so silent he hadn't even heard her. How long had he been laying there? It would take a long time to dishearten Luna Lovegood from her search.

"I was never any good at Astronomy," Neville admitted. There were very few subjects he had been good at, truth be told. It was Herbology that saved him, really. At Potions, he was abysmal. His results in Transfiguration were always dismal. Charms was always a disaster. He couldn't keep his eyes open long enough in History of Magic to do well…Yes, it was just Herbology. Something about the plants spoke to him, and without trying, his fingers knew just what to do.

"It's my favorite subject," Luna said, smiling wistfully up at the heavens.

Neville looked back up at the sky, trying to pick out a constellation that he might know and failing. Of its own accord, his hand searched the grass for Luna's, and he interlocked his fingers with hers. Neither looked at the other nor said a word; they just laid there in silence as the minutes—feeling like seconds—ticked by and nature played its nightly lullaby.

The silence was broken by a loud chiming resonating throughout the town. Twelve times, the clock struck, and each time, Neville winced. How could anyone sleep through that?

"The party's over," he said slowly. He should head back to the Three Broomstick's to help Hannah and Ernie clean up, but he couldn't tear himself from that spot.

Luna, on the other hand, released his hand and jumped to her feet. "I have to go," she said. Her eyes flickered across the lake to the castle, standing prominently on a cliff, its windows glowing welcomingly with torchlight.

"Why?"

"We weren't supposed to leave the pub…I have to go find everyone else…" As usual, her voice drifted lazily about her, and there was no sense of urgency about her presence, though Neville knew she didn't want to get in trouble. Although Luna had no qualms about fighting for what she believed in, despite the consequences, she, like any rational being, didn't want to needlessly get in trouble.

"It was nice seeing you, Neville," she said softly as she walked away from him, backwards. In the pale moonlight, he could see a gentle smile gracing her delicate face.

"Y-you, too," Neville replied shakily.

He could just barely hear her as she calmly walked back towards the village. Sighing, he moved to stand, and his eyes caught on something shining in the grass. Carefully, he moved towards it. Maybe he had found a Blibbering Humdinger?

No, it was just Luna's silver shoes.

He picked them up, letting them dangle from his finger tips, and hurried after her retreating figure.

"Luna?" he called out as he neared her. "You forgot your shoes."

She turned to look at him. "You can keep them for now. I miss walking around barefoot. People don't steal my shoes as much anymore, you know…"

She paused thoughtfully for a moment before continuing on her way. She waved over her shoulder at Neville, but said no more, just left him standing there with her shoes shining in the starlight.

* * *

"We did it; we really did it!"

Hannah threw herself down on her old spindly chair, a look of triumph on her face. It was well past three in the morning, and they were all exhausted, but they couldn't go home quite yet—Hannah had insisted that they go back to the office, recount the money, and write down how much they made.

So far, the pile of money was laying untouched, and Neville and Ernie were sitting there, almost comatose, while Hannah continued to yammer on and on about the ball.

"It was just beautiful, wasn't it? And everyone seemed to be having so much fun…It just went _really _well for a two-week thing, didn't it? I am glad we could book a band on such short notice…I was afraid they'd be horrible, but they were _really _good!"

"Yes, they were," Ernie agreed flatly. His eyes had practically glazed over; his arms were hanging limply off the sides of the chair he had collapsed onto.

"And everyone was dancing so happily! There were some beautiful masks, don't you agree? I always loved the idea of a masquerade ball—I am so glad it went well…I would love to go to another—one where I was just the guest though. I had a lovely time, but I was so busy making sure everyone else was having a good time…"

"You did an excellent job," Neville mumbled, barely aware of what she was talking about anymore. How could she have so much to say so early in the morning? Neville could barely string five words together.

"And thank you, Ernie, for dancing with me all night. I was so busy getting everything ready that I didn't have time to find a date! I didn't even have time to _think _of getting one."

This woke Ernie up. He quickly sat forward and stared at her, his eyes wide, his mouth opening, but no words coming out. Neville recognized the feeling on his face—the hurt that comes with being almost used. Neville experienced it the year of the Yule Ball, in a sense. He had known that Ginny hadn't liked him—had been quite infatuated with Harry, of course—but she agreed anyway, just to be able to go. He had assumed that might be the case, but her confirming it—watching him all night, sighing seeing him with Parvati Patil—had only made it worse.

Clearly, by the look on his face, Ernie had assumed that he _was_ Hannah's date, not just some substitute for the real thing.

"You're welcome," he eventually grumbled, falling back down, looking very defeated.

Hannah didn't even seem to notice. Her eyes had fallen on Neville, and her mouth was moving peculiarly, as if she wasn't sure whether to smile or frown. "What about you?" she asked softly. "Did you find a date? I didn't see you much during the night."

Her tone wasn't accusatory, but something about it made Neville feel uncomfortable. He suspected it might be due to the intensity with which she stared at him.

"I arranged to find Luna, so I was with her," Neville replied after a moment, clearing his throat.

"Loony Lovegood?" Ernie barked.

Neville's eyes flashed dangerously and he jumped to his feet. "Don't call her that. You were in the D.A. with her—you know how brave she is. Don't you _dare_ call her that."

Ernie quickly swallowed his laughter, but the corners of his mouth were still twitching. "Sorry, mate," he said, his voice strained. "I didn't mean to offend you—or her! She's lovely—lovely girl."

Neville continued to glare at him, but slowly lowered himself back into his seat. Hannah was still staring at him, searching his face.

"You were with Luna?"

"Yes."

"Oh." She started to twiddle with her thumbs, at long last falling silent.

Neville turned towards his desk and started to fiddle with a pad of paper sitting there. He had started to write ideas of what they could do with the money at the beginning of the rant, but he had quickly given up, too tired to think.

"Are you two dating?" Hannah asked after a moment. Neville looked at her in alarm, a blush quickly creeping across his face. He could feel the tips of his ears burning.

"N-no!" he exclaimed. "We're just g-good friends—good f-friends." His face grew hotter; his eyes were beginning to water from the effort of keeping a straight face—an effort he was undoubtedly failing at, though he could feel nothing but the hotness of his cheeks.

"Oh, okay. I was just curious…"

Hannah didn't look triumphant anymore; she looked exhausted and haggard. Her curly blonde hair was frizzy and falling out of its elegant bun; her makeup was smeared across her face. Her smile had fallen off her face, and her eyes were downcast as if she were searching for it on the floor.

"Lets's just count the bloody money so we can go home," Ernie said grumpily. He reached for the sack Hannah had put it all in and dumped it out onto the floor. "Hannah—you count the knuts, Neville will count the sickles, and I'll count the galleons."

Neville lowered himself to the floor to start counting, but Hannah wasn't quite done yet.

"Did you two have a good time?"

"Yes, we did. You did a great job, Hannah," Neville tiredly replied as he separated the sickles from the large pile of money.

"Thank you…what did you guys do?"

"Talked, danced, ate…" Neville sighed; Hannah's continuous flow of talk was wearing him out. "At eleven we left for some fresh air. We never made it back for the end."

Hannah's eyes just about fell out of their sockets. "You weren't there for the end? That was the best part though!"

"Was it? What happened?"

"Everyone took off their masks, found the person they were looking for, or just some random person, and there was one last dance. Then all the jack-o-lanterns exploded in fireworks!"

"…wasn't that messy?"

"Oh, no. It was fine."

"Okay. Well…that sounds great, Hannah."

He was sincere, but it was tiring saying the same thing to her over and over again. He just wanted to go home and get some sleep. He couldn't believe she had roped him into this.

"What did you—"

"Hannah, can we just count the money like we intended to all along? We are all tired," Neville interrupted. What was this, the Spanish Inquisition?

"Oh…okay, sure," she said timidly. She silently joined the boys on the floor and separated the bronze knuts from the pile. As she silently counted the coins, her long hair shielding her face, Ernie sent Neville a sharp glare which the latter didn't quite understand.

* * *

"You got in late last night."

Neville stifled a yawn as he looked over at his gran. She was sitting at the kitchen table, calmly sipping at her tea as she looked over the _Daily Prophet_. Neville pulled out a chair and collapsed into it. With only four hours of sleep under his belt, he was more than a little tired.

"This came in this morning, too."

Gran passed _The Quibbler _across the table to him. Neville had started to order the magazine just out of support for Luna, and although there were occasionally some very credible articles, for the most part, Neville had trouble getting into it.

He casually flipped through the pages, barely catching glimpses of the article titles. As he had expected, the pages were filled with the usual bunch of obscure articles about plants, animals, and people who may or may not exist. It wasn't until he reached almost the end of the magazine that he found an article that struck his interest.

**Moving Forward  
**_by Maryanne Lovelace_

A little over five months after the end of the Second Wizarding War, a lot has been done in an effort to reconstruct the world which has been lost in its wake. Slowly but surely, walls have been rebuilt, businesses have been reopened, and people have started to heal. Memorials have been erected to honor those whose lives were lost to the Dark Lord and his followers—beautiful memorials which, if you haven't seen, you must. The Ministry has finally done something right, tearing down that awful fountain in The Atrium and replacing it with their memorial, which features the names of all who died in the war—on the good side, naturally—though I won't say anymore of it.  
So much has been done to reconstruct, but what has been done about the _people_?  
Many Death Eaters have already been put in Azkaban, and many have been sentenced to the dementor's kiss, and others still are being tried. Marcus Flint, a rumored Death Eater, has a court-order coming up, though he insists that he "never was no bloody Death Eater." But what about the rest of them?  
Voldemort had so many supporters during the Second Wizarding War—though it is unclear how many acted of their own free will—but only a handful have been caught. What happened to the rest of them? Where are they hiding? Is anyone even attempting to find them?  
Although it seems that much has been done to rebuild the community in which we live, there is still so much left to be done before we can say that everything is back to normal—if it will ever be back to normal. This war has left our world scarred, and for many, life will never be the same. But for all of us, life goes on. All we can do is try to help out in whatever way possible—this may mean building up villages, tracking down Death Eaters, or just talking to friends who have been affected. We all just have to remember to move forward—not back.

Neville put down _The Quibbler, _deep in he just wasting his time, thinking he was really helping out when, by the sounds of it, so many others were doing the same thing? He thought again of George Weasley and was reminded of the pain he must be suffering. Would his time be better spent talking to people and getting them back on track? It was an appealing idea, but he wasn't sure how to do it. Neville had never been known for his social skills; he would probably start rambling and say the completely wrong thing.

"Neville? Do you need something for breakfast?"

"What? Oh I…yes please. Toast and jam is good…"

He lifted the magazine back up and flipped through the rest of the pages, but it was much of the same stuff that was in the beginning. Neville was about to give up when he spotted his name in a small article.

**Where Has Harry Potter Gone?  
**_by Arcturus Wolfe_

It is a question we have all been asking ourselves these past five months—where has our hero gone? He has made himself completely unreachable—no one knows where he has gone or what he is up to. As usual, The-Boy-Who-Lived is an enigma.  
It is rumored, however, that after five months of hiding, Harry Potter resurfaced last night at _Longbottom & Associates Nonprofit Relief Organization's _Masquerade Ball fundraiser. This cannot be proven, however, due to the masks worn at the gathering. However, since it was hosted by his friend Neville Longbottom, it is likely that he did attend.  
When asked whether she had seen Potter recently, supposed girlfriend Ginevra Weasley told reporters to "bugger off."  
Has Harry Potter become so isolated that he doesn't even see his girlfriend anymore? And why is he cutting himself off from society—does he have something to hide, or is it something else?  
Whatever it is, we all want to know—what's keeping Harry Potter from talking?

Neville rolled his eyes and threw down the magazine. Something to hide? What was this person _talking _about? They had no idea what was going on with Harry. He probably knew that he'd have no peace and needed to get away. One can only handle so much attention, and Harry probably felt he had had more than his fill. He was certainly just searching for peace and quiet. Unfortunately for him, finding that would prove to be as difficult as finding the Blibbering Humdinger—it might be possible, but he was going to have some hell of a time finding it.

* * *

**a/n **This certainly isn't my favorite chapter...I got stuck several times on it and...I don't know. I liked the beginning, with Neville and Luna. And then the middle section served its purpose, if any of you caught on to what that was. And the end...well it gives some information which can be used for later events.

In any case, I hope you enjoyed this. Please review-tell me what you think. Thanks so much for reading :)

xoxo


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